Chapter 9
My mouth curved into a smile as I remembered our mini-golf date earlier, Gisselle's victory dance, and how she'd hooked her arm through mine as we walked to return the putters.
My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast this morning. My body protested as I pushed myself up from the couch and headed to the kitchen. Once there, I washed my hands before grabbing the ingredients I needed for dinner from the refrigerator and pantry.
The routine of cooking centered me as I chopped the onion and minced the garlic.
I preheated the oven while I combined all the ingredients in a mixing bowl.
As I prepped my food, I thought about how Gisselle had my nose wide open from the moment I'd carried her out of the burning building.
She was gorgeous, but it wasn't just her looks.
Her smile made me forget why I'd kept people at arm's length for so long.
I pulled out a muffin pan, sprayed it with oil, and scooped the meatloaf mixture into each cup. I then put it in the oven and set the timer.
Next were the potatoes, which I scrubbed clean, cut into uniform cubes, and tossed with olive oil and salt. I threw them into the oven to crisp. Finally, I put the green beans in a pot with a piece of bacon, onion, and garlic for flavor.
I washed and wiped my hands on a kitchen towel, debating whether to call Gisselle. I'd cooked enough food for at least two people.
"Man, what are you thinking?" I muttered to myself, but I already knew. The idea had already lodged itself in my mind.
According to the timer, thirty-two minutes remained, enough time to take a quick shower, change, and get back before the food was done. I'd pack it up and head to Gisselle's. I wanted to make sure she took care of herself.
I moved to the shower, planning how I would keep the food warm on the drive over.
My idea of eating alone in front of the game had already faded.
I just hoped it would come off as more thoughtful than presumptuous.
Either way, I was committed to the plan, and my instincts told me where I needed to be.
After a quick shower, I packed up two plates and headed out the door.
Ten minutes later, I stood outside Gisselle's door with the plates balanced in one hand while I rang the bell with the other.
Second thoughts crashed into my mind, making me suddenly wonder if she was home or had company.
This idea was presumptuous as hell, but I'd already driven over there.
Footsteps approached the door. I heard the security chain slide and the deadbolt turn. Her hair was pulled in a bun with a pencil stuck through it, and glasses perched on her nose. She had on leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, looking surprised.
Gisselle's eyes widened, flicking from my face to the covered plates in my hand. "Liam? Is everything okay?"
"I figured you might be working and forgot to eat. I made dinner." I lifted the plates slightly.
Gisselle's expression shifted from confusion as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You appointed yourself my personal meal delivery service?"
I shrugged, feeling ridiculous for showing up unannounced. "I can go if you've already eaten or have plans."
"Don't you dare. I haven't eaten since the pancakes this morning, and whatever you have smells better than the ramen I'd contemplated."
Relief hit me as I stepped inside. Her apartment was what I expected for an architect, with a drafting table and blueprint rolls leaning against the wall next to it.
She led me into a small kitchen area, clearing a stack of design magazines to make space for the food. I noticed a half-eaten granola bar and a cup of coffee next to her drafting table, confirming my suspicions that she'd worked through dinner, with no plans to stop.
"What did you bring?" she asked, looking at the wrapped plates.
"I made meatloaf, roasted potatoes, and green beans. My mom's recipe." I unwrapped them, the aroma filling the kitchen.
"Wait. You cooked this?" Gisselle's voice held genuine surprise.
"What? You thought firefighters only knew how to work a grill?"
Gisselle laughed. "I assumed you survived on protein shakes and takeout like every other single guy I've met."
"I enjoy knowing what's in my food, and cooking helps me think," I explained.
"What were you thinking about today?" she asked, her eyes meeting mine.
"You. Among other things," I admitted.
Gisselle's smile deepened, and she nodded toward the living room. "Couch okay? My dining table is currently hosting blueprints and my laptop."
"Yeah, of course."
We settled on her couch, with plates balanced on our laps. Gisselle took a bite and made a sound that sent heat straight through me.
"Oh my God, this is amazing," she moaned, briefly closing her eyes.
I took a bite, pleased with how it turned out. "Glad you approve."
"Approve? I might need to rethink our dinner plans for the restaurant and have you cook for me instead."
The casual way she referenced our future plans made me realize we were building something.
We ate for a few moments before she spoke again. "I know you said you were thinking about me today, but what else was on your mind while you were cooking?"
"Honestly, it's the first day I didn't think about it. I enjoyed today. It's been a while since I spent a day just having fun."
She nodded, setting her fork down. "Same. Columbus was all work, networking, proving myself in a field where being a Black woman meant working twice as hard for half the recognition. I was in a relationship, too, but it wasn't healthy."
The way she said it made my jaw tighten. "He hurt you?"
"Not physically, but the classic gaslighting, I didn't recognize until I was already deep in it."
"I'm sorry." The thought of anyone making Gisselle doubt herself made something protective rise in me.
"What about you? I'm guessing there's a reason the firefighter calendar model is single on a Sunday night," she said.
I smiled at her compliment and set my plate down on the coffee table.
"There was someone, years ago, before the warehouse fire that gave me this.
" I pointed to the scar on my arm. "After I lost my best friend in that fire, I wasn't in a place to be with anyone.
I shut down, and she eventually got tired of trying to break through walls I hadn't even realized I'd built. "
Gisselle looked at me. "And since then?"
"Work. Family. Occasional dates that never went anywhere because I wouldn't let them… until now."
Gisselle's expression softened with recognition, and she smiled.
We finished eating and moved the conversation back to lighter topics like her mother's persistent calls to see if she'd met any nice people yet and my sister's dating advice.
Gisselle set her empty plate on the coffee table. "Thank you. This was a nice surprise."
"Someone has to make sure you remember to eat," I replied.
She rolled her eyes playfully but smiled. "My hero, saving me from starvation, one home-cooked meal at a time."
There was genuine appreciation in her voice, and I wondered in what other ways I might be able to take care of her. I stood up and gathered our empty plates with the efficiency of a man used to cleaning up after himself. Gisselle rose too, and we headed to her kitchen.
"You don't have to help with cleaning. You already cooked," she reminded me, turning on the faucet.
"My mama raised me better than that. Besides, two sets of hands make light work."
Gisselle smiled, passing me a soapy plate. "You sound like my dad. He always said that before getting me to help with yardwork."
"Smart man." I chuckled.
She handed me the last fork. "You know what's weird? That this doesn't feel weird."
I raised an eyebrow. "Me washing dishes in your kitchen?"
"Any of it. You showing up with dinner, us talking about exes, and whatever this is becoming." She gestured between us.
"What is it becoming?" I asked, drying my hands with a dish towel.
"Something that matters, I think."
My eyes dropped to her lips, and I knew she noticed because her breathing changed. I leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull back if she wanted. She didn't. Instead, she met me halfway, her hand coming up to rest against my chest.
This kiss was different from the first one.
There was no adrenaline from the near miss with a truck.
This was deliberate and unhurried. I took my time, learning the shape of her mouth, her taste, the sweetness of the iced tea she had with dinner.
Gisselle's hand slid up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing the stubble on my chin.
I deepened the kiss, my arm wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. She made a small sound in the back of her throat, almost undoing my control. Her body melted against mine as if she belonged there. Maybe she did.
When we broke apart, her eyes opened, dark and wanting, making my dick twitch. For a moment, I considered staying. The way she looked at me made it clear she would welcome it.
Something held me back. Respect for her or moving too fast — whatever was growing between us deserved more than rushing. Gisselle wasn't someone I wanted to get out of my system in one night. She was worth taking the time to bond with and build something solid with.
"I should go. I have an early shift tomorrow," I said, my voice rough.
Disappointment flickered across her face, giving way to understanding.
She nodded, her hand still resting on my chest. "Okay.
" Gisselle handed me the two clean plates after placing them in a plastic grocery bag.
She followed me to the door, the charged silence thick between us. At the door, I turned to face her.
"Next time, I'm not leaving this early," I assured, my voice low with promise.
Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. "Is that right, Lieutenant?"
"That's right." I brushed my thumb across her lower lip, savoring her sharp intake of breath.
I forced myself to step back, open the door, and do the responsible thing, even as every instinct in me wanted to stay.
Gisselle leaned against the doorframe. "Thank you again for dinner."
"Thank you for the company," I replied, wondering when I could see her again.
I felt her eyes on me as I exited. I glanced back to find her still watching, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Something expanded in my chest, and whatever it was followed me all the way home.